


The Shadowwalker

by Thorinsmut



Series: The Shadowwalker and The Bulldog [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Lies, Loneliness, M/M, Sad Ending, but which identity is the false one?, canon with the BOFA, false identities, there are no happies here, what if he didn't want saving in the first place?, what if love were not enough to save him?, what if no one knew who Nori really was?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no lock the Shadowwalker cannot open, no building the Shadowwalker cannot enter.<br/>There is no secret the Shadowwalker cannot learn.<br/>The Shadowwalker is here, is there, is in every land and among every people, wherever the wind goes.<br/>The corpses of those who cross the Shadowwalker are found scattered, carved into precisely a hundred pieces.<br/>Dwalin, the King's Bulldog, has sworn to hunt the Shadowwalker down, growling and snapping but always a few steps behind.<br/>Nothing and no one is safe from the Shadowwalker. </p><p>Nori? He's just a trader with a wanderlust who visits his brothers in Ered Luin every few years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadowwalker

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a fic with a happy ending.

They say there is no lock the Shadowwalker cannot open, no building the Shadowwalker cannot enter, no object the Shadowwalker cannot acquire.

They say there is no secret the Shadowwalker cannot learn.

No one knows where the Shadowwalker is. They say the Shadowwalker is here, is there, is in every land and among every people, wherever the wind goes.

They say the Shadowwalker has taken the best of the worst from every land, gathered them into a court, a shadow kingdom more loyal and far more deadly than that of King Thorin.

They say the corpses of those who cross the Shadowwalker are found scattered, carved into precisely a hundred pieces.

Dwalin, the King's Bulldog, has sworn to hunt the Shadowwalker down, growling and snapping at shadows but always a few steps behind.

They say the Shadowwalker never wears the same face twice.

Nothing and no one is safe from the Shadowwalker.

 

Nori? He's just a trader with a wanderlust who visits his brothers in Ered Luin every few years.

 

The Shadowwalker lounged across the soft yet elegant couch that was his throne, deadly-sharp knives winding between his nimble fingers, idly watching his court. Dwarves of all kinds, representing all the Dwarven kingdoms, played dice and gambled and planned. There were Men and Women too, a few, those with unique skills he'd met on his travels and enticed back to the Blue Mountains. Quick and dangerous, all his court, and all of them smart enough to know they were better off with him than _without_. He held them with fear, and with love, and with the wealth that came to them so much more easily with his mind behind it.

The shadows prospered as they had never prospered before... but there could be _more._ The Shadowwalker could always dream of more, and bigger, and better. Dreaming was the first step to making it real, and no one dreamed like the Shadowwalker.

“I'm _bored_.” he said. His court stilled to expectant silence around him, and he smiled, but only on the inside. His court watched him and waited on his words, waited to hear what he planned for them – what challenge, what new game, new crime, new entertainment he planned for them. One of his graceful Haradi dancers, able to kill with a single prick of a pin, quirked an eyebrow hopefully – always eager to be fucked in front of an audience, that one.

“I'm _tired_ of Ered Luin.” The Shadowwalker said, and his court inhaled in unison, wondering where he would take them. Somewhere else in the Blue Mountains... or elsewhere? The Iron Hills, or the Orocarni further to the East? The wild mountains of the far South, or perhaps a kingdom of Men?

“I want to move the court... to Erebor.” he said. His court broke into shocked gasps and whispers around him, and the Shadowwalker laughed, but only on the inside.

Everyone had heard of Thorin's mad plan to retake Erebor, the Shadowwalker could see the calculations in the eyes of his court as they wondered how they would set themselves opposed to the king, to take the Mountain out from under his nose – ah, but there was a simpler solution, much more elegant.

“I will be joining Thorin's Company.” he said, with a sharp look around that meant he didn't have to wait for murmurs to die down again, gesturing to one of his finest, oldest, and most loyal, “Sit with me Leikn.”

She unwound herself from her cushion and settled into the space he'd made at his right hand, her appearance was as fluid as his own – today she had flame red hair, bright against the sun-kissed creamy-brown of her skin, brushed tall in a crest, the sides of her head shaved bare and vulnerable, but a fool it would be who thought her _weak._

“Take care of them for me while I'm gone?” the Shadowwalker asked her, loud enough for all to hear. She'd done it for him before, when he wandered off with the winds, though he didn't _always_ leave her in charge.

“Of course.” Leikn answered, her ever-changeable eyes gleaming amber-brown today and a knife in her fingers to match the one he was only now flicking back up his sleeve.

He leaned toward her, as if to kiss – her teeth snapping right beside his lips, his teeth snapping by her cheek, her chin – growling back and forth as they maneuvered around each other, wrestling without touching, until only she was left on the couch, lying across it as though she owned it.

The Shadowwalker swaggered his way to the main door of his court – his people watching him. It was a sudden change for them, but they wouldn't be _his_ court if they couldn't adapt in an instant. There would be problems while he was gone of course, there always were, but nothing Leikn couldn't handle.

A darker shadow pushed its way out from the wall, looming taller than the the Shadowwalker but shorter than a Man – just a hint of a gleam from heavy gold jewelry, strong white teeth, and dark eyes.

“You like, I come? Protect?” he offered.

“Stay, Ornir.” the Shadowwalker decided – not that he didn't like traveling with the southern Dwarf, he was an excellent assassin, but he lacked the _subtlety_ for something like this. “Kill anyone who tries to take over.” he instructed, glancing around to make sure _everyone_ knew they could be included in the people Ornir was told to kill, even Leikn.

“Hundred pieces.” Ornir agreed, and the Shadowwalker nodded slightly. The Eagle knew what was expected of him.

He paused at the door, looking back at his court, all his people and all the rich things they had surrounded themselves with – that could be disappeared all in an instant if a warning were sounded.

“Be bold, my darlings.” the Shadowwalker told them, “Be quiet, be hidden... and be very _very_ bad.” he smiled, but only with his teeth, before he made good on his name and stepped into the shadows to disappear.

 

Nori signed on to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, selling himself as the wandering trader he'd been ever since he first ran away from home. The king _needed_ more well-traveled Dwarves with him. Nori admitted, a little shamefacedly, that he _did_ have a few things on a criminal record from when he'd been very young, before his blood settled. Thorin most magnanimously agreed to clear his record of such small trifles. Dwalin, the king's Bulldog, clasped his hand and greeted him into the Company.

The Shadowwalker chuckled smugly, but only on the inside.

 

The Company gathered, and Nori made friends with Bofur, and tried not to get into too many fights with Dori, and laughed at Ori and the little princes naive antics. The Shadowwalker could not resist baiting the Bulldog, and Nori told stories that implied not _all_ the things he sold were always his to sell. Dwalin growled and glowered, and the Shadowwalker chuckled, but only on the inside.

 

The Company traveled, and Nori made himself useful. He was the most well-traveled of the group, after all, though everyone but Ori and the Hobbit had done at least a _little_ traveling.

They were captured by Trolls, and Nori was bound, shouting and struggling, along with the rest of the Company.

The Shadowwalker calculated and planned and bided his time – but between the wizard and the Hobbit he was released without revealing any of his skills.

 

The Company stayed in Rivendell with the Elves for a week. Nori sneered at their food and their music and their fashion along with everyone else.

The Shadowwalker explored every inch he could find, never knowing when he'd have another chance to become familiar with Elven ways, to see if they had anything worth stealing, and dream of the best ways to do so.

When the Shadowwalker caught sight of the Bulldog bathing alone at night in the Elves' fountains, he stayed to watch.

Nori joined Dwalin in the pool, speaking quietly with him of family and honor and the quest, and not hiding the admiration in his eyes as he looked the warrior over.

Nori licked the sweat from Dwalin's back as he fucked him, holding on hard to the warrior's scarred and tattooed muscles, gasping as he ground out his pleasure in the clenching heat of his body, one hand wrapped around Dwalin's thick erection to make sure he got off too.

Dwalin bellowed Nori's name as he spent, and Nori followed close behind, lying warm and boneless across the happily purring warrior's back as they both relaxed in a sated haze.

The Shadowwalker laughed so hard he was _sick_ , but only on the inside.

 

The Company sneaked out of Rivendell, and Nori helped pack and followed along with everyone. The Shadowwalker remained silent and offered no advice on how it could have been done much quicker and quieter.

 

The Company were beset by Goblins and Nori shouted and struggled along with everyone else. The Shadowwalker noticed Bilbo slip away, and wondered if the clever Hobbit would find a way out for the Company _this_ time. The Shadowwalker bided his time, and the Wizard found a way out for them – Nori fighting close behind Dwalin as they escaped, because Dwalin was the best fighter.

Bilbo did find his own way out, though, which was another point in the favor of Hobbits to the Shadowwalker, and wondered if he might have been _too quick_ to dismiss the idea of Hobbits in his court in the past.

 

The Shadowwalker laughed, but only on the inside, as he used the Bulldog's head as a step to climb a tree. Nori jumped from tree to tree and threw the Wizard's flaming pinecones along with the rest of the Company.

The Shadowwalker took the opportunity to study Azog – searching for weaknesses – because it was obvious they would be meeting the pale Orc again.

The Shadowwalker planned a way to _survive_ the fall of the tree, difficult and uncomfortable though it would be, when Eagles swept in – summoned by the Wizard. The Shadowwalker wondered briefly what it might take to get a Wizard to join his court, but dismissed that quickly. He did not fight against it when an Eagle flung him out into the open air to land on one of its companions back.

The Shadowwalker spent the hours of his ride carefully trying to discover if it would be possible to get an Eagle to join his court, or work with it – unfortunately it did not seem likely.

 

In Beorn the Skinchanger's home, Dwalin sought Nori out by the fire to quietly talk of battles and family and Erebor until the rest of the Company had all gone to bed.

Nori's body bucked and shook, his head falling to thunk against the wooden wall of the hallway as he spent down Dwalin's throat, the big warrior groaning against him as he brought himself off with his hand at nearly the same time.

Nori sank down to sag against Dwalin, petting his face with a trembling hand.

“You're so good... so good...” he murmured.

The Shadowwalker laughed and laughed and laughed, but only on the inside.

 

In Mirkwood the food ran out, and Nori starved and grumbled along with the Company.

When the water began to run low, the Shadowwalker wondered if he could get far enough with what was left to make it out of Mirkwood alive, or if he would just die alone a little further along.

Nori looked toward Ori and was appalled by the thought.

In the end the spiders ended up making the choice.

 

In Thranduil's dungeon, Nori rested and recharged and talked with the exasperated and surprisingly invisible Hobbit, and moped and complained just the way the rest of the Company were.

The Shadowwalker watched, and waited, and smiled at the Elf guards, but only with his teeth, until the whites showed all around their eyes every time they looked at him.

And he laughed, but only on the inside.

 

The Hobbit made a marvelous escape plan, and the Shadowwalker was determined to gather _at least_ one Hobbit into his court.

 

In Laketown, the Company planned and gathered strength, and spoke of Erebor and the Dragon, and Nori spoke of these things with them.

Dwalin sought Nori out and hoisted him against a wall, Nori's legs around his waist and his arms around his neck as the warrior kissed him fiercely, moaning as Dwalin's tongue thrust unforgivingly into his mouth. Dwalin ground against him, big hands gripping and running all over him, possessing him.

The Shadowwalker growled an angry warning against letting the Bulldog have his way, but only on the inside, and only quietly, and it was easy enough to push it back and ignore it in the pleasure...

Dwalin and Nori broke apart, laughing, as Dori embarrassedly chastised them for going at it _in public_. Nori took Dwalin's hand and led him to his room, took him into privacy for the first time, lay him out on the bed and fucked him face-to-face, watching the different fascinating expressions of his pleasure pass over his face. He lost himself in it and spent before he had expected to, but he brought Dwalin with him, so it did not matter.

Nori and Dwalin lay together, sated and comfortably warm and relaxed.

The Shadowwalker sneered disapprovingly, but only on the inside.

 

The Company reached the Mountain, and Nori was surprised along with everyone else to meet talking Ravens.

The Shadowwalker immediately set about befriending a few Ravens whenever the Company was not watching. Unlike Eagles and Wizards, _these_ were something he could easily convince to join his court. He could dream _endless_ uses for them.

 

The Company reached Erebor, and there was gold like the Shadowwalker had never seen before.

Thorin was nattering about his favorite rock, ordering the Company to search for it for him. The Shadowwalker lounged across an elegant, if slightly uncomfortable, couch, which he had dragged up onto a pile of his beautiful gleaming gold in his Mountain. He draped himself with the finest of gold and jewels.

“We're supposed to be searching for the Arkenstone for Thorin?” the Hobbit was twittering at him.

“There are lots of pretty rocks in the Mountain.” the Shadowwalker answered, inspecting the depth and clarity of a ruby, “Why should I care about Thorin's favorite?” he decided the ruby was better than the diamonds he was wearing, and switched them.

The Hobbit was still there, making unhappy faces and looking as though he were going to talk at him again.

“Run along, little duck, before I get tired of you.” The Shadowwalker suggested softly, smiling, but only with his teeth.

The Shadowwalker picked up some sapphires, to see if they were better than the amethyst he was wearing...

 

The Bulldog grabbed the Shadowwalker in a quiet side tunnel, big hands groping all over his body as though he _owned_ him.

Within an instant the Shadowwalker had the Bulldog pinned to the wall with deadly-sharp knives pressed to his throat and wrist.

“Do you think you're the first Dwarf who thought he could own a piece of me?” the Shadowwalker asked softly, “Touch me without permission again, and I'll _personally_ scatter your body across this mountain in a hundred pieces.”

He flicked his knives back away and turned to leave.

“Nori?” the Bulldog had taken a step to follow him, half-reaching toward him.

“This isn't a fight you can win, _Bulldog_.” the Shadowwalker sneered over his shoulder as he swaggered off into his shadows to disappear.

Nori was appalled, but only on the inside, and from far away, and easily ignored.

 

The approach of battle was like a drenching in icewater, awareness returning to everyone. Nori discarded all the heavy gold and jewels he'd been wearing and dressed instead in light armor and weapons.

He ran out into battle with the rest of the Company.

Nori and the Shadowwalker both fought with everything they had just to stay alive.

Someone had managed to defeat the white Warg, and Azog's fixation on Thorin was his weakness.

The Shadowwalker did not hesitate to use it, to take the pale Orc from behind while he was distracted, and he laughed both inside and out as he stood atop the huge corpse before spinning away to continue fighting.

 

At the end of the battle the living were counted, but Thorin and the little princes were not among them.

Nori stood in exhausted numbness with the rest of the Company as the wounded were cared for, and the dead honored, and the orcs and goblins burned, and Dain Ironfoot crowned king of Erebor.

The Shadowwalker smiled, but only on the inside, as he dreamed how best to place his court in their new home.

 

Dwalin sought Nori out on the battlements, sitting with several feet of space between them, eying him warily.

Nori took a long drag at his pipe, breathing a smoky cloud out into the cold air.

“You were... different... in the gold madness.” Dwalin said cautiously.

“We _all_ were.” Nori answered shortly, looking away from the big warrior.

“Not the way _you_ were.” Dwalin said quietly.

Nori said nothing.

The Shadowwalker wondered how much the Bulldog knew or suspected, considered the best ways for fighting him. Without the element of surprise, he'd not be so easily defeated. From behind and in the dark would be the surest way...

Even if the Bulldog didn't suspect, he _would_ eventually if Nori let him too close. The Bulldog wasn't _stupid_ , and the Shaddowwalker knew he had to keep his distance if they were both to live.

After a few moments of awkward silence while Nori ignored him, Dwalin took the hint and left without a word.

Nori cursed himself soundly, but only on the inside.

 

Agreements to split the treasure of Erebor fourteen ways between the Company were all well and good in theory, but of course in reality there had never been a chance it would happen. There were far too many people with a prior claim to it.

The Company were made very wealthy, regardless, but Nori took no interest. He'd had enough of gold sickness. He signed all his over to Dori and Ori, told them to keep it warm for him as he planned his next journey.

"I had hoped a better home, and maybe even that _flirtation_ with Dwalin, might have convinced you to not to wander..." Dori lamented.

“You won't stay?” Ori asked pleadingly, and Nori smiled and laughed, but only on the outside.

“I drift with the wind, you know that!” he told them, ruffling Ori's hair affectionately. “I'll blow back through when I can!”

Nori left Erebor alone with a smile on his face, and a heavy heart, and just his pack to keep him company.

The Shadowwalker whistled to summon his three loyal young Ravens, and he dreamed his court bigger and better than it had ever been as he searched out a caravan to join to take him safely back to the Blue Mountains and his people.

 

There had been changes while the Shadowwalker was away, as always, but nothing Leikn and Ornir hadn't been able to handle. There were fights and celebrations when he returned to his court. The Shadowwalker snapped and snarled at Leikn, fighting his couch throne back from her without touching, her hair long and smooth and black and her eyes green today – but he didn't look at all like he had when he'd left, either. The Shadowwalker had the Eagle recount his kills and any rebellions that had happened while he was away. He called for food and ale and the tales of the best and boldest thefts they had attempted in his absence. He fucked the Haradi dancer, graceful and deadly and never happier than bouncing on his cock right there on the couch in front of everyone.

With all that taken care of, the Shadowwalker gathered his court around him while he laid out his plan for them – how to settle every last one of them into Erebor with no one suspecting a thing.

They looked at him with eyes sharp and worshipful and hungry, dreaming with _his_ dream, and the Shadowwalker smiled.

 

The shadows thrived in the kingdom of Erebor, and the Shadowwalker sprawled contentedly across the comfortable and elegant couch that was his throne, watching his court around him, the very finest and most skilled from every land. They were quiet, and hidden, and bold, and very _very_ bad. He had Dwarves of all kinds, representing all the Dwarven kingdoms. He had Men and Women from nearly every race of Men. He had a dozen Ravens that allowed him to keep track of anything he might desire to, almost anywhere in the world.

He even had Hobbits, a pair of adventurous lasses, a Took and her sturdy Hayward lover, for whom the thought of settling down and breeding a dozen children each in the Hobbit way had not appealed. With their short stature and beardless faces, and their hair hiding their ears, they could pass as Dwarven children – up until the moment they slipped their boots off and disappeared silently with whatever they had been sent to steal and anything that struck their fancy along the way.

Everyone knew the Shadowwalker owned Erebor, that there was nothing and no one safe from him. There was no object he could not acquire, no secret he could not discover, that anyone who wronged him would be found scattered in precisely a hundred pieces.

The Bulldog - Bulldog to a different king now but still the Bulldog nonetheless - swore to hunt the Shadowwalker down, growling and snapping at shadows, but always a few steps behind.

The Shadowwalker dreamed for his court – always new challenges, new entertainments, new games, new crimes – and they prospered. He held their loyalty with love, and with fear, and with the wealth that flowed to their hands so much richer when he was the mind behind it than otherwise.

 

Nori was a traveling trader who drifted through Erebor rarely, when the wind brought him through. His brothers were always happy to see him, and gathered up the Company to eat and drink and hear the tales of his latest travels.

He never sought Dwalin out, and Dwalin never sought him out.

 

Even more rarely than that the Shadowwalker climbed unseen in the darkness to the roof of a certain house, above a certain open window, and listened to the aching sorrow of the strings as a violin played a lament.

Nori listened to Dwalin play and sobbed until he could not breathe for weeping, but only on the inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with art of the Shadowwalker's court by mariejacquelyn  
> http://mariejacquelyn.tumblr.com/post/76303787501/lets-play-the-slip-in-a-piece-of-art-super-late
> 
> and of the final scene by the wonderful Sparkle  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/73663735983/for-thorinsmuts-the-shadowwalker-and-the


End file.
